


Dial Tone

by DancingGrimm



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Dialogue-Only, Expiration Date, Gen, Happy Ending, Phone Calls, TF2 Writing Competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingGrimm/pseuds/DancingGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the TF2 Writing Competition. For the prompt;<br/>What really happened during Demoman’s last 72 hours to live in Expiration Date.<br/>Demo has a few phone calls to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dial Tone

**Author's Note:**

> For non-TF2 followers, Expiration Date is an animated short produced by Valve to accompany the game. Watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLlLQ3LmZWU). This will make very little sense if you haven't watched it. Go ahead. It's funny, I promise.

67 Hours

 

“Hi honey, I'm _so_ glad you called. I've been real lonely. My name's Caramel. What's yours?”

“Ah'm gonnae die!”

“Uh...what's that, darlin'?”

“Ah...I...wait, who's that?”

“My name's Caramel, honey. You called us, remember? 'Secret Rendezvous Phone Service'. You remember?”

“Aye, I remember now. Seemed like a good idea when I picked up the bloody phone.”

“...You a little drunk, sweetie?”

“Nowhere near enough.”

“Tough day?”

“You could say that, aye.”

“Oh, now, ain't nothin' we can't fix, or at least make you forget for a while, huh?”

“Heh, you're a nice lass. But it ain't gonnae be fixed by wanking off over the phone.”

“'Wanking'?You're British, right? Anyway, why not?”

“Because...because zerza bread inna thingy and it went an grew lumps and now _we_ got lumps an... _uh uh uh-huh-huh-huh_...”

“Oh, darlin', are you cryin'?”

“ _sniff_ yuh.”

“Oh, sweetie, c'mon, it ain't the end of the world, right?”

“...s'pose. _sniff_.”

“And there aint nothin' you can fix by cryin' over it, is there.”

“Nope.”

“Big ol' guy like you has to go and deal with his trouble head on. Go on, dry your eyes and blow your nose.”

“ Aye... _rustle rustle HONK_ ”

“Lord knows it ain't the usual use tissues get put to by fellas I'm talkin' with.”

“You really are a nice lass.”

“I do my best. You wouldn't believe how often I end up listenin' to men cry in my line a' work.”

“Ah'm gonnae go. Thanks for listenin' Caramel.”

“You're welcome darlin'. I hope your bread lumps turn out okay.”

“Aye. G'night.”

* _dial tone_ *

“Okay Claire, keep up the good work. Get through college and this shit'll be worth it.”

 

 

 

51 Hours

 

“Degroot residence, whit d'ye want?”

“Mum, it's me.”

“Well, finally he phones! Where've you been, boy? I've been stuck in the house all bloody day!”

“Aye, sorry Mum. Um...something happened. With work.”

“Oh...oh good lord, Tavish. Is it bad news?”

“Well...you might want to sit down.”

“Oh no! You've been fired! My boy's been fired!”

“Mum!”

“Oh the shame!”

“Mum, that's not it.”

“It isn't?”

“No Mum, it's...it's nothing. Never mind. Everything's okay.”

“You're sure? That wee lass in the purple dress hasn't been sayin' anythin' weird?”

“No Mum, things are okay here. Just busy. I'm sorry I've not been home for a couple o' days.”

“Well I should think so!”

“How are you getting' on with Mrs Higgins? Is she okay?”

“I don't need a bloody housekeeper, Tavish. I keep tellin' you, if you'll only help me with a couple o' little things, I can look after us just fine.”

“I know Mum, but I just...I can't always be there. So if you get on with her okay...I know you've got somebody lookin' after you. I don't have to worry.”

“You're hardly ever away for more than a day or two, love.”

“I know Mum. I just...look, is she alright? Is she doin' all the jobs you need?”

“Yes, I suppose she's not bad. And she can at least make a decent pot o' tea, unlike that last one. I don't know where you find these women Tavish, honestly.”

“The agency, Mum.”

“Agency my ear! These women don't know how to look after a house. They barely even know how to saw up a pipe!”  
“Mum, have you been makin' pipe bombs? What are you gonnae use 'em for?”

“I just like to have a few put by. You never know what'll happen, Tavish.”

“Okay, okay. Well, I just wanted to check something with you.”

“Aye?”

“You know where all our financial stuff is, right? What I did up on the braille typewriter for ye? All the account numbers?”

“O' course I do.”

“And you remember the phone number for the Swiss bank? And where the deed for the mansion is?”

“I know all these things Tavish. Why on earth are you asking me? You aren't going to be away for that long, are you?”

“...”

“Tavish?”

“I...I'm not...you never know Mum. You never know what might happen. I just wanted to be certain.”

“All right then love. But your work is good? You didn't lose your job? You're sure?”

“I'm sure Mum. Look, I've got to go. One o' me mates is giving this sort of lesson, and I said I'd play a bit o' piano, help him out.”

“What' that? You're givin' piano lessons?”

“No Mum, I-”

“Oh Tavish, that's wonderful! Another job!”

“...Yeah Mum. I'll do me best at it.”

“There's a good lad. Work hard. Like your Dad would.”

“Yeah. Yeah, like Dad. Love you, Mum.”

“Love you too, boy. Go and do your piano lesson. Don't let them give ye any shit.”

“I won't Mum. I...goodbye.”

“See you soon.”

_*dial tone*_

“That's ma' boy.”

 

 

 

 

 

38 Hours

 

“Hello, this is Officer Stan speaking. Um, I mean, this is Teufort Stan Station, police speaking. No! I mean...wait, gimme a second...”

“Is that Teufort Police Station?”

“Yessir, that it is. How can I help you on this fine day?”

“I'd like to report a crime.”

“Oh gosh, really? That's so exciting! What sort of crime is it? Is it mail tampering? I love those ones.”

“Nae, it's a bit more serious than that, laddie.”

“Oh. My. Goodness! Has somebody let their dog fowl in the park? I told the Mayor, I said to him 'Mike, if you plant those begonias there it's going to attract exactly the wrong sort of person to this park.' He can't say I didn't warn him!”

“It's not about the begonias Stan. It's about a streaker.”

“A what? Oh wait, I've heard of that. College kids do it, right?”

“Aye.”

“And it's illegal. Because it's in public. And there are nudey parts that Jesus doesn't need to see. Right?”

“That's right, Stan. I'm calling to report a streaker right here in Teufort.”

“Holy cow, we gotta do something! Okay, uh, can you tell me where this person did their, er, their streaky thing, sir?”

“Aye, it was right along Main Street.”

“The nerve! Okay, let me write that down...got it. And what exactly did they do?”

“They flung their clothes off with not a care in the world, and ran full out along the street with no regard for morals or decency.”

“Oh no! And, uh, was...was it a lady?”

“No, it were a man.”

“Aw! I mean, um, can you describe him please?”

“Well, he's tall, in his late thirties, and of the black persuasion.”

“Uh huh.”

“Strikingly handsome, with a build like an Olympian athlete.”

“Uh huh.”

“And with an air of grandeur, in spite of his state of undress.”

“Okay, just writing...got it.”

“Got every word?”

“Yep. Now sir, can you tell me when this took place?”

“Sure, it was today.”

“Today? Sir, I can see most of Main Street from my desk and I've been here since eight thirty this morning. Are you sure?”

“A' course I'm sure. _rustle clink rustle rustle_ ”

“Okay, if you say so. Can you tell me exactly what time it took place?”

“ _click rustle thwump_ In about thirty seconds time.”

“In thirty...what? Sir, that doesn't make any sense.”

* _dial tone_ *

“Sir? Sir? Can you hear me? I'm telling you, I can see all of Main Street, and there hasn't been anybody...wait, who is...OH MY GOSH! There he is! Ew! Ew! Eeew! I'm calling the Mayor!”

 

 

 

15 Hours

 

“Builder's League United, an ordinary employee who isn't a mercenary speaking.”

“...Janey?”

“What? That name is eyes only information! Who is this?!”

“Janey, it's me.

“...”

“Jane?”

“Tavish? Is that you?”

“Aye.”

“You've got some fucking nerve calling me! I don't ever want to hear your voice again, mister. You got that?”

“Wait! Janey, don't hang up! I got somethin' important to tell ye!”

“What? You want to share some intelligence or something?”

“I...I suppose. In a way.”

“So you're turning on your team, eh? Should expect that, from a god damn turncoat like you!”

“Me? You're the one who...ah shit. It don't matter. I don't care anymore.”

“Well you oughta! I'm still gunnin' for you, one-eye, and when I catch up to you-”

“Janey, just listen for a bloody second! Please!”

“...”

“Just...where do your team get your teleporters from? Did your engineer make them? Or are they from Mann Co?”

“I'm not telling you one damn scrap of information. I don't betray my team!”

“All right, all right. You don't have to tell me. Just...don't use the teleporters for a while, okay? Ask your Engineer, and maybe your Medic too. Just tell them you think somethin's wrong with 'em, ask 'em to take a look. Will you do that?”

“Why should I?”

“It might save you from some nasty business. That's all. Just ask 'em, will you?”

“I don't... I can't trust you anymore, Tavish.”

“Aye, I know.”

“Why are you even telling me this?”

“It's important. That's all. I'd regret it if I didn't tell you. And I've got enough bloody regrets already.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I need to go, Janey. The lads are looking for me. Remember about the teleporters, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“Good. That's good. Janey, listen...”

“What?”

“Remember that trip we took to Vegas? That...that was really somethin' eh? I wish we could go back there.”

“We could have. Maybe. If you hadn't...fucking...god fucking damn it Tavish, I'm so mad at you!”

“Aye. I know. But I miss you, Janey. G'bye.”

_*dial tone*_

“Tavish? Tav? ...I miss you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

-8 Hours

 

“Good morning, this is Santa Fe Public Library, Joanne speaking.”

“Well g'mornin' Joanne. Ah've got a wee question for ya.”

“Okay then, go ahead.”

“Wha...a head? No, it ain't anythin' to do with ma head.”

“Um, are you sure you've called the right number sir?”

“Oh aye. Ah tried the library in Teufort, but they're all fuckin' morons.”

“Sir! Please mind your language!”

“Oh, aye, I'm sorry hen. Ah'm a wee bit drunk.”

“...It's ten in the morning.”

“That it is. Ah've been celebrating.”

“Celebrating?”

“Aye. You know why?”  
“I don't sir.”

“Ah'm no' dyin'! Me bread lumps aren't killin' me! I dinnae even _have_ any bread lumps! It's only the bread that gets the bread lumps, an' we blew that fucker up!”

“That's...that's very nice, sir.”

“Too fuckin' right it is! Ah shit, I went an' cursed again. Ah'm sorry.”

“Well, please try to keep it reined in sir. Now, what is your question?”

“Well, you got books there. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Type o' books you can look stuff up in?”

“Of course.”

“Then I want you to look up somethin' very important for me. It may be difficult to find out. It may be illicit knowledge. It may even be...French.”  
“Well...we have French-English dictionaries, I guess...”

“Good. What I want you to look up is...hang on a minute. _..click thump...taptap...hey, what was it again? click..._ I'm back. I got me mate to remind me what it was.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Can you tell me what 'post coitus' means, please?”

**Author's Note:**

> The TF2 writing competition was arranged by Vestam, and you can read all the entries [here](http://vestam.tumblr.com/post/121618606432/tf2-fic-contest-winners). Dial Tone came in 5th place :)


End file.
